


To you, my regrets

by LiveOakWithMoss



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alcohol, Bad Decisions, Explicit Sexual Content, Feelings, Friends With Benefits, I suppose?, Light Angst, M/M, More or less describes 95 percent of Finrod's love life, Pining while fucking, Unrequited Love, if that's a thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-02
Updated: 2014-12-02
Packaged: 2018-02-27 21:59:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2708249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiveOakWithMoss/pseuds/LiveOakWithMoss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An evening by the river leads to revelations between Finrod and Turgon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To you, my regrets

**Author's Note:**

> 0\. This is overtly a sequel to [Because the Night](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2120949/chapters/4628433); you don’t HAVE to have read it, but it would help.  
> 1\. I wrote this instead of working on the next chapter of DWMP, whoops; it is the fault of Silje's unabashed exhortations (and this, non-shippy [drawing](http://melkomelko.tumblr.com/post/104010794095/turgon-and-finrod-being-majestic-old-farts-though) by melkomelko). (I am working on the chapter now, though.)

“Doesn’t this remind you of when we were children?” Turukáno looked over his shoulder at Findaráto, who was reclining on the bank while Turukáno dangled his bare feet in the water.

“I don’t remember drinking quite this much wine as children,” said Findaráto lazily, taking a long swig from the wineskin before passing it back to his friend. “But I suppose your parents might have plied you with drink to keep you out of their hair more than mine did.”

Turukáno flicked water at him, then took a long drink himself. “I  _meant_  spending time by the river. I seem to remember that we spent nearly every day here when we were young; every night, too, when we could get away with it.”

Findaráto looked skyward. “It’s likely we will end up in that situation again, if we don’t stir ourselves in a timely manner. The light is already shifting.”

Turukáno shrugged. “I have nowhere to be. Do you?”

“No obligations? How very unlike you.” Findaráto pushed himself upright and almost tipped back over again. “Ooh. That wine is stronger than I thought.”

“Did you water it down at all?”

“No, of course not. My father always says it’s a crime to dilute the best wines.”

“Your father also likes to get tippled and sing bawdy songs about swans on feast days.”

Findaráto arched an eyebrow, a disbelieving smile curling his lips. “My goodness, Turukáno, are you  _jesting_  with me? At the expense of my father? How positively Fëanorion of you.”

Turukáno grinned a little and tipped the rest of the wine down his throat. “What can I say? Perhaps the wine is affecting me, too.”

“Did you just finish it? Why, you piggish thing…” Findaráto made a grab for the wineskin, which Turukáno held out of his reach with one long arm. Findaráto lost his balance and grabbed Turukáno’s shoulder to keep from slipping into the water.

Turukáno was laughing at him. “Oh, valiant effort, Ingo, you almost had it! But I’m afraid it is empty, so your efforts are in vain…”

“Beast,” muttered Findaráto, still hanging off Turukáno’s shoulder. He pulled himself up, or attempted to, and ended up half across Turukáno’s lap. “If you’ve swilled the last of the wine, I suppose I’ll just have to take what I can get.”

“What does that mean-” Turukáno began, but was cut off as Findaráto stretched up to lick the wine from his lips. “ _Mpph_.”

“Mmm,” murmured Findaráto, and then caught himself. His eyes widened and he stared up at Turukáno, who looked like he’d been poleaxed. “Oh, no.” He pushed himself off Turukáno hastily, his cheeks burning. “Not again.” He retreated to the far end of the bank and buried his face in his hands. “Merciful Manwë, I should never drink around you, I swear.”

Turukáno blinked, still frozen.

Findaráto groaned. “I am so sorry, Turno. Please forget that happened. I get – I get horribly inappropriate, apparently, when I’m around you and my inhibitions are lowered…and I just can’t resist…I thought I was  _over_  this, but apparently…oh, Eru, I'm still blathering on. Why can’t I just shut up?”

He stood up with some effort and caught himself with a hand against a tree. “I’ll absent myself, before I do anything worse. Please don’t let me ruin things between us, again.”

“Again?” Turukáno looked up at him at last, dark brows drawing together.

“Yes.” Findaráto looked away. “The last time I…made the mistake of kissing you during a night of drinking, we didn’t speak for a month.”

Turukáno’s face darkened, and Findaráto flinched involuntarily. “Forgive me if if it took me some time to figure out how to process the realization that  _after_  kissing me you spent the night in bed with my  _brother_  and our cousin.”

Findaráto pressed a hand to his hot cheeks. The alcohol must still be affecting him; he’d long since learned to control his blushes. “Ah. I really do apologize. I know how you feel about…such things. I know it makes you uncomfortable. I’m sure that – ”

“Uncomfortable?” Turukáno surged to his feet, none too steady himself. “I don’t know what you think of me, Findaráto, but I wasn’t simply being morally offended by your actions!”

“You weren’t?”

“No!” Turukáno glared at him. “I had been hoping to talk to you! You fled so fast after you kissed me that you didn’t even allow me time to respond!”

“You  _did_  respond,” said Findaráto softly. “You pulled away.” Echoes of that rejection crackled painfully through him and he wrapped his arms around himself, suddenly chilled by the cool air rising from the river.

“Yes, because I was  _surprised_ , you idiot,” said Turukáno, still looking rather ominous with his fierce black brows and his snapping blue eyes. “Forgive me if I need more than a minute to take in the fact of my best friend kissing me. We’re not all so swift to react as you are. Nor do we all make such swift decisions when it comes to physical intimacy.”

Findaráto opened his mouth, astonished at the hurt in Turukáno’s eyes. “Are you saying you would have…”

“I don’t know!” Turukáno gesticulated in frustration, the wine sketching his movements over-large. “But I would have liked the chance to think about it!”

“Oh.”

“And now you’re running away again.” Turukáno reached out then, and his long arms closed the distance between them. Findaráto shivered as Turukáno’s hands closed around his upper arms and pulled him closer. “You always run  _away_.”

“I’m holding still now,” said Findaráto softly.

“Yes, you are.” Turukáno’s hands moved lightly over Findaráto’s arms. He wasn’t looking his friend in the face, his eyes instead fixed on the lines of Findaráto’s shoulders. His hands moved slowly up Findaráto’s biceps to rest against his shoulders, thumbs pressing lightly against his clavicle. Findaráto made a conscious effort not to shiver again at the touch.

“I don’t mean to make assumptions,” said Findaráto, when it became clear Turukáno wasn’t going to say anything, or do more than run his fingers over the sensitive skin of Findaráto’s throat, “but Turno – you have ever given me the impression that maidens alone hold your interest.”

“You’re right,” said Turukáno. He was still staring at Findaráto’s throat. “I have never looked at a man in that way.” A faint cloud passed over his face. “I am not my brother.”

Findaráto pulled away. “And  _that_  is precisely why I ran,” he said sharply. “I do not want to be accused of  _luring_  you into unnatural or objectionable practices, not when you make it all too clear how you feel on such things.”

“No.” Turukáno reached for him, but Findaráto stepped back, out of reach. The wine was still singing in his veins, but it wasn’t fogging his senses. If anything, they felt all the sharper. “It’s not – I don’t – ”

“You have never looked at a man that way,” said Findaráto, his voice hard. “So do not let me attempt to break your streak.”

“No!” Turukáno raised his hands, a both beseeching and frustrated gesture. “Look, Findaráto, I don’t understand this very well, but it does not seem to matter what I think in general – You’re not just any man, you’re…you’re  _you_.” He looked at Findaráto with such wonder and despair that Findaráto felt himself take a step forward, unwittingly.

“What do you mean by that?”

“How could  _anyone_  not want you as I do?”

The words dropped into the still night, and it felt to Findaráto as if all other sound ceased. He closed his eyes, breathing slow and deep, like his father had taught him.  _If I can learn to control my visions, learn to shape my dreams, surely I can make sense of this one._ Slowly, the murmur of the river reached him once more. And then, a light exhale from Turukáno, more than a little unsteady.

“Ingoldo…”

“No.” Findaráto opened his eyes. “Please stop talking.”

Turukáno blinked and swayed. “Oh.”

“Please,” said Findaráto, and he was somehow within a handbreadth of Turukano again. “Please, if this is to be…If this night is going to be some dream, do not ruin it by…”

“Speaking?” said Turukáno, with an ironic quirk of his lips, and it made both of them laugh. Suddenly, the strangeness that had infected the evening felt more familiar.

“Oh, Turno,” murmured Findaráto, and then he was winding his arms around Turukáno’s neck, “this is such a bad idea.”

“Yes,” whispered Turukáno, and Findaráto could feel his breath, still rich with wine, upon his lips. “But I don’t care.”

This time, the one to close the distance between them was Turukáno, as he bent down to cover Findaráto’s lips in a kiss.  _This is_ such _a bad idea_ , Findaráto thought,  _You will only end up getting your foolish heart broken, you hopeless, romantic ass. He doesn’t know what he is asking, and meanwhile, you will fall… But what a difference, to feel him reach out to me._  He closed his eyes, tangled his fingers in Turukáno’s long dark hair, and let himself drop.

-

They must have been drunker than either of them had realized, Findaráto thought hazily, as they fumbled with clothing and laces there on the bank, the grass cool and damp beneath them.

“How many layers are you wearing?” he gasped, attempting to lay Turukáno bare.

“Just two,” protested Turukáno, trying to wriggle free of his tunic and accidentally elbowing Findaráto in the stomach. “You are trying to remove them in the wrong order.”

“Ai,” sighed Findaráto, falling back from him, his own tunic falling open over his chest and slipping free of one shoulder. “You do it, then. And hurry.”

Turukáno pawed helplessly at his tunic laces with wine-clumsy fingers for a while, before letting out a low curse and pulling the whole thing over his head with a certain amount of ripping of seams. “Now you,” he ordered breathlessly. “Oh, you are such a tease, Findaráto…”

“What am I doing?” Findaráto pushed himself up on his elbows and regarded Turukáno curiously.

“You somehow look more obscene with your clothes half off than if you were naked,” muttered Turukáno, a flush rising on his cheeks. “Damn you.”

“Well,” said Findaráto thoughtfully, sitting up and beginning to undo his laces. “We can do a direct comparison and you can render your verdict.” He shrugged free of his clothes and stretched out on the bank, the wine still warm in his belly keeping him from being self-conscious as Turukáno’s eyes raked his form. “Don’t look at me like that,” he murmured. “You’ve seen me naked before.”

“Not like this.”

“That’s true.” Findaráto reached up and tugged Turukáno down. His friend’s face was caught in a blend of embarrassment and desire, and it somehow made him look all the more alluring. Findaráto couldn’t resist kissing him to see if he could shift the balance in favor of desire.

It seemed to work; Turukáno gave a small moan and wrapped his arms around Findaráto’s waist. “ _Oh_.”

“Yes.” Findaráto nipped lightly at Turukáno’s neck to see what would happen. Turukáno growled, a sound that went straight to Findaráto’s low belly, and pushed Findaráto back on the grass with surprising strength.  _Oh no_ , Findaráto thought.  _Oh, I am going to like this far too much._

He struggled to keep himself focusing only on the physical pleasure; the warmth of Turukáno’s skin, the brush of his fingers, the strength of his arms, the glide of their tongues together, the delicious friction as they slid against each other. But then Turukáno was pulling back, whispering, “Help me, Ingo, I don’t know how any of this works… What do I do?”

Findaráto’s heart gave a painful throb at the anxiety in Turukáno’s eyes, the mixture of tenderness and want with which his hands wandered over Findaráto’s body.

“I’ll show you,” Findaráto whispered, pressing his lips to Turukáno’s ear, and didn’t say,  _How I love you._

When Turukáno finally moved into him, his eyes full of wonder and his movements full of caution, Findaráto thought he might break open and shatter if he was touched with such gentleness. So he rolled them both over so that he straddled Turukáno, and moved their lovemaking into something more wild and uncontrolled, rejoicing when he saw Turukáno’s eyes darken and felt his fingers dig almost painfully into his sides.

_Yes_ , he thought, closing his eyes and letting his head drop back,  _Let this be about pleasure. Let this be about desire. I would rather you use my body than gentle it; I would rather you be fierce than tender; tear my body to pieces but please, dear friend, leave my heart alone._

When he felt Turukáno’s movements quicken and become wilder, he arched his back, pleasure building fast and fierce within him. And when Turukáno wrapped a rough hand around him, Findaráto tossed back his head, his hair falling tangled and golden down his back and sweeping over Turukáno’s knees, and gave himself over to sensation.

-

_Pleasure_ ,  _and naught more_ , Findaráto thought drowsily, as he sank down on the bank, exhausted and sweat-soaked, listening to Turukáno’s heavy breaths beside him. For a moment, he almost believed it.

But then Turukáno rolled over and nuzzled into his hair, whispering gentle, sweet gratitude and wonder into his ears, one arm warm over Findaráto’s waist.

_Oh, damn you_ , Findaráto thought, despairing, and prayed for sleep.

_This was such a bad idea._

But he couldn’t bring himself to regret it.

**Author's Note:**

> 2\. I originally included a last line that would have made this fairly tragic, but decided not to include it. Finrod suffers enough in life.  
> 3\. Oh. And yes. I ship Finrod with anything that moves.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Eclipse these memories](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3514397) by [LiveOakWithMoss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiveOakWithMoss/pseuds/LiveOakWithMoss)




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